


Dis/Abled

by Reindeer_enthusiast



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Autistic Character, Child Abuse, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26133385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reindeer_enthusiast/pseuds/Reindeer_enthusiast
Summary: Even though he was young, Shuu was determined to be a gentleman, a knight in shining armor like Matsumae, and be the prince that saves Chie Hori from a cruel and unkind world. Hori, however, learns that sometimes, girls just make for better knights.What was meant to be a day of exploration, a day of playing at a new park, turned into a lifelong journey of the oddest pair, an inseparable pair who insisted on spending every day at the other's side.
Relationships: Hori Chie/Tsukiyama Shuu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Dis/Abled

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for derogatory slurs against autistic people.  
> [Just to explain, growing up, myself and a close cousin of mine showed a lot of autistic characteristics (him more so, leading to a diagnosis of mild to moderate, previously known as Asperger's). The "child abuse" drives from experiences her and I had, and then exacerbated]  
> I don't know if it's considered canon, but Hori seems to be wildly accepted as autistic, and I'd love to see that be a canon thing for reasons more than just her hyper fixation on cameras.  
> All in all though, this is a love story and I hope you enjoy.

"... and then, Papa said that if I'm good, I'll be allowed to go out even more often, and if I'm really  _ really _ good, he'll take me for horseback riding lessons. Matsumae, you know how to ride a horse, right? You'll teach me? Right? I'm gonna be a real life knight in shining armor one day. Just like you, Matsumae!"

Matsumae sighed, as Shuu energetically dragged her along Tokyo's streets in search of a recently completed children's park. Said 'Knight' was more than willing to bring the small master out on outings, but the hot summer sun beat down on them and her suit felt too stuffy, too tight, and Shuu had already asked for her company with numerous physical games. 

The public park was a modest new project. It featured a wooden castle structure, with accompanying swings, slides and jungle gyms. The ground was wood chips and dirt, surrounded by blacktop adorned with chalk drawings. Benches liberally surrounded the area for watching parents and guardians alike. 

The heat might have been a deterrent today, as the park seemed relatively empty. There were only a few other children running and exploring. 

Shuu took off as soon as his shoes hit blacktop pavement. Matsumae sighed in relief at the luck of finding a bench seat beneath a tree. The overworked nanny sat and enjoyed the shade, listening with her extraordinary sense of hearing to ensure the safety of the young master. 

"Matsumae! Matsumae, come play!" Shuu called to her as he hung upside down from monkey bars. 

"Disrespectful little thing to call his mother by her name," the woman beside her spoke. Matsumae glared from the corner of her eye at the middle aged brunette, but made no comment. 

An hour or so passed, and the sun beat down directly from above. The sweltering heat may have dissuaded the few other families from staying, but Shuu didn't seem to notice. He leapt between different sections of the castle playground with each child before their parents would call to them, explain that they would be leaving and the child would say their goodbyes, leaving Shuu on his own. 

"Sure is hot today," the stranger spoke again. 

Matsumae decided to entertain the stranger this time, turning to her. "Hm. It is."

"Your little one always wears his church clothes to play? He looks so cute but I can only imagine the stains. Ah, but you two look pretty well off so I guess that's not much of an issue."

"Hm."

Matsumae's attention followed Shuu as he approached the only other child remaining at the park; a small child kneeling amongst the wood chips at the edge of the playground, far from any of the attractions the park provided. In the summer heat, her thick, messy brown hair stuck to her face with sweat. 

"Ah, I wouldn't bother, kid," the woman beside Matsumae spoke again. She spoke absently, to neither herself or Matsumae.

"Hi!" Shuu stood in front of her, hands behind him as he stood tall and proud above the girl. "Do you want to play with me?" 

The girl didn't seem to acknowledge him. Her head tilted up only high enough to examine the overly proper attire he wore. 

"That's my girl," the stranger explained. "If I'm being honest with you, I'd give about anything to have a kid like yours instead: vibrant and social and polite. My girl, well she's not really worth half the trouble she causes."

This seemed to only be proven as the girl ignored Shuu's request entirely, head dropped back to examining the wood chips and dirt beneath them, leaving Shuu feeling surprised and rejected.

"Seems cruel, coming from a mother," Matsumae commented.

"It's the truth," she said with a shrug. "She's, uh, on the spectrum, you see." She whispered, obviously embarrassed by this fact. "She's almost six and still won't talk. She's said about a dozen words in total. Few times she does talk, she drives me insane. She'll just repeat whatever she hears, over and over. Can't hold a conversation to save her life. Meanwhile your boy seems to talk like a little adult. He's cute, you're a lucky one."

With the information, Matsumae decided she'd heard enough and stood. She approached the children, and knelt beside Shuu, grabbng his attention. She noted that he looked hurt, as he was obviously not used to being rejected, something other than the center of attention. 

"Shuu-sama," she started. "Why don't you and I play beside her? I'm sure she would like the company." Matsumae looked to the girl, and noticed the curious glances from beneath her lashes.

Shuu looked unsure, looking between Matsumae and the child, before nodding. 

Matsumae sat beside them, ignoring the inevitable damage the harsh terrain would do to her suit. Shuu sat cross-legged across from her, folding his arms and pouted.

“Don’t pout, Shuu-sama, it’s unbecoming.”

“Well it’s  _ rude  _ to ignore people,” Shuu stated loudly for the girl a few feet away. His complaints fell on seemingly deaf ears. 

“Shuu-sama,” Matsumae snapped. She then sighed, and tried to think of how she can explain this without upsetting either child. “Shuu, some children are born a little different- you of all people should understand that. There are things you can do that others can’t, and things you cannot do that other kids can.” 

"I guess, but it's still not nice," he whined. 

"She's not trying to be rude, she's trying to be herself. Give her that respect and I'm sure she'll give you the same."

“Hm...Fine," he muttered. Matsumae spent the next hour or so creating games for Shuu and her to play, watching his spirit pick back up over the course of the day. He would occasionally call over to the girl again, but when she paid him no mind, he paid her none in return.

Though he was obviously annoyed by the lack of interaction, Matsumae silently noted that he didn’t make an effort to move their party, not under the shade where it would be more comfortable, or to a part of the park with more interesting things for a child to do.

Silent company is company, nonetheless.

Another hot summer afternoon, and Matsumae found herself weaving through the wooden structure of the park searching for Shuu. Rather, she would pretend to struggle to find him, as her sense of smell could have led her to him immediately, but that made for a poor game. 

“Now, now, where will I ever find him?” she spoke aloud as she got close. She heard a giggle, and the sound of shoes taking off. “Ah, I believe that’s cheating.”

Shuu snuck off the playground, deciding to make things more challenging for his exhausted nanny. He hid behind one of the park’s trees, peaking around to ensure she was not onto him, before lifting himself onto one of the lower branches. 

One of Shuu’s favorite parts of these outings with Matsumae was the freedom she allowed- indirectly, of course. The nanny acted as a strict and well mannered guardian, but would conveniently turn a blind eye to the child-like behaviors her young master engaged in.

If one were to question her too strongly, she likely would have admitted the truth- she pitied him. To grow up in such a high class environment had its perks, but for a child it came with more costs than benefits. 

Children like Shuu aren’t allowed the privilege of being a child. Manners and talents overtake creativity, responsibility over curiosity, and Matsumae worried that he would never be granted permission to act as a child should act at the manor. 

Outings were proposed to acclimate him to the human world, but in truth, were an escape from the controlling home, a chance to experience childhood as it was intended to be experienced. 

Climbing trees would have been extraordinarily high on the list of things he was not permitted to do at the manor.

With little effort, the young ghoul found himself up much higher than he intended. Seeing the ground blur beneath didn’t scare him, though- on the contrary, he was certain Matsumae would never be able to get him down. Shuu settled down on one of the branches and watched Matsumae through the clearing of leaves. He almost felt bad as she seemed to have genuinely lost him, her callings becoming slightly more anxious as she searched through the castle.

_ Click. _

“Hm?” Shuu’s head snapped to the sound of a camera shutter. From so high up, he would have assumed he was sure to be alone, and even if he wasn’t, he should have smelled another’s scent.

Messy brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail this time, and a large camera hid her face, but Shuu recognized her the moment she lowered the camera to examine the display. 

“Oh, it’s you. You were here last week.”

She tilted her head but gave no other hint that she was listening. 

“...Oh, that’s right, you don’t talk.” He sighed, looking back to the ground. He was quite disappointed in himself for not realizing he wasn’t alone. 

He was startled when the branch he sat on suddenly dipped, and looked back up to realize she had leapt from her own to sit beside him. She faced her camera display to him, showing a photo of him amongst the bright green leaves.

“Oh, that’s me.” He took the camera carefully in his hands, examining the display with intense scrutiny. “I’m cute,” he noted, pleased. 

Giving him the camera was apparently not her intention. She lurched towards him to snatch the device back, visibly upset. She made noises of frustration, reaching around him as he pushed her away.

“Don’t be unfair! You can’t hand me something and then get mad when I take it!” She only became more frustrated, kneeling up on the branch and reached around him with little arms. “Knock it  _ off!”  _

Shuu wasn’t sure which one of them was to blame, but the camera dropped from his hands. He tried to catch it, reaching for the strap, but when it fell from between his fingers, he only felt guilty as he waited for the inevitable shatter. 

She, on the other hand, was less willing to let that happen, and dropped herself from the branch. 

“What are you doing!” Shuu shouted, fearing that a fall from this height would be fatal for a human.

And just as unwilling as she was to let the camera break, he jumped from the branch, leaping forward and diving down to catch her. His kagune tore through the material of his shirt and shot into the tree itself, carving down as their fall slowed. Shuu clung to her with one arm and a branch in the other. Curled into his side, she cradled the camera, and stared in amazement.

“What are you?” She asked, sounding starstruck.

“So you can talk,” he muttered, retracting the kagune and resting down on the nearest branch that could support their weight. He brushed off his shirt, and noted that Matsumae was not going to be happy when she saw the tear through the back. 

_ Click.  _

“Don’t do that!” he snapped. “You’re not allowed to tell anyone about this. I can get in a lot of trouble. I should have just let you fall.”

“I don’t have anyone  _ to  _ tell,” she commented, showing him the device again. An annoyed expression and black and red eyes on the display, Shuu grimaced. “Are you some kind of monster?” She asked.

“ _ No, _ I’m just not a human.”

“Hm, you never thought those were the same.”

“What?”

“... _ I  _ never thought those were the same,” she corrected, to Shuu’s confusion. 

He sighed. “I’m what’s called a ghoul.”

"Ghoul...ghoul, ghoul  _ gh-ooo-ul _ ," she repeated, unsure if she liked the way the word felt. She grimaced, deciding she didn't care for the way it tasted. "What's that?"

"It means I eat people like you."

"Oh. Okay." 

"...Aren't you scared of me now?"

"Not really."

"...How come?"

She shrugged, turning her attention back to her camera.

"...You're weird."

She merely shrugged again.

Shuu watched her, carefully examining the delicate way she handled the device and the tatters and tears in her clothing. She seemed to be a walking contradiction, someone careful and clumsy, watchful but inattentive. He didn't understand.

"How come you don't talk?" He asked, regretting his callousness. Matsumae surely would have snapped at him for being rude. 

"I lose my voice when I get scared."

"Lose? Where does it go?"

"I dunno...I wish I could follow it."

"Are you scared a lot?"

"Hm...guess so."

"Are you scared right now?"

"No."

"Even though you're sitting with a ghoul and almost just fell to death?"

"...No."

_ So,  _ Shuu wondered,  _ why doesn't she talk on the ground? _

"Are you afraid of bugs?"

"No."

"Scared of other kids?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"Aliens?"

"I like aliens."

"Weird. Are...you afraid of your mom?"

Silence. She made no effort to acknowledge the question, lips pursed to a tight line. She can't answer, he realized. She  _ is  _ scared.

_ 'And a lady should never have to feel afraid, as Papa has said! A gentleman protects her!' _

"Well, you don't have to worry about that, because one day...we're going to get married!" Shuu decided. His face flushed bright red with embarrassment, but he had already made up his mind. "I'll be your husband one day and you won't ever have to be scared again! Because I'm a gentleman, and I'll be the knight in shining armor that saves you!" 

She lifted her head to meet his gaze for the first time since they met. The moment of eye contact was brief before her gaze moved to the burning red tips of his ears, the flushed color of his neck, the way his hair seemed to puff out like a Ghibli character does when emotional.

And she laughed. He felt relieved to hear such a rare sound, even if it was at his expense.

"You're weird," she told him.

"Shuu-sama!  _ Shuu-sama! _ How did I actually manage to lose him?" Matsumae asked herself as she searched. His scent marked the areas around the playground but seemed to stop short. 

Until, that is, she finally thought to look up and found two pairs of shoes above her. "Shuu-sama, what are you doing up there?"

"Winning! You couldn't find me!" He cheered. 

“Indeed, I couldn’t. We need to be going, Shuu-sama, it’s getting late.” Shuu whined in response, pleading to stay just a bit longer. “I’m sorry. We can come again later this week, if you like.”

Shuu looked at his friend. “Will you be here this week?”

“Dunno. I can try.”

“Matsumae, Matsumae! Can we plan to be here at the same time?”

“We can try, Shuu-sama. I will ask the young miss’s mother when they will be here next. I recommend you two climb down while I ask.”

“Yes, Matsumae.” The two waited for her to be far enough away before Shuu’s friend asked if he would be able to finish. His kagune re-emerged, coiling around his arm and coming to a sharp point, a thin blade. “Certainly,” he assured, returning to his work of carving the kanji that made up their names into the oak tree’s trunk. 

_ Chie Hori + Tsukiyama Shuu _

_ Click.  _ The camera shutter announced the moment with a display of the messy child scrawling marking the tree.

“I think this makes us official!” Shuu declared.

She laughed, murmuring some affirmation of “If you say so,” as she started climbing down to the lower branches. 

“Shuu-sama,” Matsumae returned in time to help Hori down, with some resistance from Hori. “Are you planning on jumping down or must I come up to get you?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t come up!” He quickly began his own descent down. “Did you talk to her? Did she say we can play again this week?”

“We exchanged numbers, so we will try to plan something.” 

Hori waited. She waited, and waited, and waited. She had made the rare move of trying to speak, only in order to plead with her mother to let them come to the park this day, to make arrangements so she could see her friend, but the empty park felt as though it grew larger with each passing moment. The weather was particularly brutal, the heat wave hitting the city made the air intolerable. 

On top of that, Hori wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to be doing with herself while she waited. She knelt amongst the woodchips, feeling the discomfort of tiny pricks and pokes at her skin, and rocked back and forth. 

“Not sure why this kid is even bothering,” her mother muttered, fanning herself with the paper hand fan she brought along. “Hori, they said they would be here almost an hour ago, and they’re not here. They’ve probably realized it’s not worth their time. It’s too damn hot to just be sitting here.”

Hori merely rocked. Nothing she said would have helped her cause. She picked through to the dirt in search of anything that would take her mind from the sweat ridden shirt sticking to her back or the way her hair felt clinging to her face. 

“Hori, are you listening?” Her mother snapped. “I said they’re not coming. Get up.”

Hori sank lower. She wondered if she could force her weight into the ground, if she could summon gravity to surround and engulf her. 

She just needed a few more minutes. He would come, she was sure of it. 

She heard the footsteps approaching, and tried harder; she tried with all her might to become one with the forces of nature, relinquish her physical form in exchange for the weight of gravity so that-

Her mother snatched her arm, a forceful grip that ripped Hori from her kneeling position to her hands and knees. 

“Ungrateful thing you are to drag me out and then ignore me. Let’s go, you littl-”

“ _ Ho-ri-chan!”  _ Shuu called, sprinting from the edge of the playground to his friend. Unknowing to him, it was to her rescue. 

Hori’s mother was quick to change her posture, to make it look as though she was  _ gently coaxing _ the  _ uncooperative and challenging  _ child from a fit. “Ah, Shuu-kun, you’re just in time, I was getting worried we might have missed you,” her mother said sweetly. 

“Hello,  _ miss,”  _ Shuu said in English.  _ Papa does so, so he should too!  _ “I’m sorry we were late, my piano lessons ran over time.”

“Piano lessons! Oh, what a sweet little boy you are! You must be so talented.”

Matsumae finally caught up with her young master, visibly exhausted, and bowed to Chie’s mother and her. “I apologize, I was not able to let you know we were running behind time.”

“That’s fine, that’s fine. But, if you don’t mind me asking you a favor? I didn’t expect to be here so long, and I have errands to run. Would you be so kind as to watch them while I do some running around?”

Matsumae nodded, still catching her breath. “Of course, it would be the least I can do to make up for the inconvenience.”

“Thank you very much. Hori, listen to the young lady. If I get a bad report, you know what will happen.”

The tension in Hori’s shoulders was a hint that this report would need to be good, lest Hori pay the consequences. 

“Don’t worry,  _ miss!”  _ Shuu assured, “we’ll be  _ so  _ good!”

Chie’s mother chuckled, enamored. “Oh, I’m not worried about you, little one. See you kids later.”

Once her mother was a speck in the distance, Shuu’s smile dropped as he examined the red lines circling Hori’s upper arm. “I’m sorry we were late.”

Hori didn’t speak, only pushed herself back onto her heels and hugged her knees close to her chest. 

“...Do you want to go play on the swings?”

After a long moment of silence, she stood and made her way to the swings herself, leaving Shuu scrambling to his feet to join her.

Hori sat on the swing motionless while Shuu swung as high as gravity allowed. Hori would occasionally kick or rock her body, but otherwise she was still. Matsumae stood off to the side, watching them carefully with quiet concern. 

"Hori-chan, Hori-chaaan, Hori, Hori, Hochi,  _ Hochi!"  _ Shuu sang. 

"Hochi," Hori repeated. "Hochi, Hochi-"

Matsumae leaned back against the bench, listening to the two dance around the playground and sing-song variations of their names. 

"Mochi!' Hori shouted, then gasped. "We should get mochi."

"What's that?"

"Ice cream."

"What's that?" 

"Snack," Hori explained simplistically. 

"Hm...Come with me," Shuu instructed, running to where his nanny rested comfortably. "Mat-su-maaae! We want to get 'mochi.'" 

"You can't have mochi, Shuu-sama." 

"Why not? I want it!" 

"You can't have it."

Shuu looked between Hori and Matsumae, before pouting. "Mochi, mochi, mochi!" He chanted.

Hori soon joined in. The two circled the bench the woman sat on, their volume increasing as they surrounded her like sharks. 

Matsumae sat calmly, unaffected by the display, and returned to reading. 

Chie's mother returned not long after the child had begun their parade, stopping a few feet from them and listening to their incessant chants, and stared at the calm demeanor Matsumae displayed. 

"What are they doing?"

"They want a snack. I reminded Shuu-sama he can't have it, and they started doing this in retaliation."

"Why are you  _ letting _ them?"

"I've found with Shuu-sama, the best way of handling a tantrum such as this, is to ignore it completely."

Chie's mother scoffed. "That won't teach them. How long have they been at this?"

Matsumae checked her wrist watch. "Approximately five minutes. I give it four more before they both tire out completely."

"Will not!" Shuu shouted before resuming the circling chants with Hori. 

"You think  _ nine minutes  _ is okay? This kind of behavior is unacceptable. Hori, knock it off, right now."

Hori had long since forgotten that this was with the intention of getting a snack. She merely found repeating words to be enjoyable, and doing so alongside another child was the closest she'd ever felt to friendship. She didn't hear her mother's demands, as she was lost in the euphoria of having  _ fun. _

But her version of fun often led her to trouble. She's experienced it at school, at home, in public to any degree. Any time Hori had  _ fun _ when not alone, it ended poorly. 

It ended embarrassment at the least, and pain more often than not. 

Hori's arm was gripped tight, she was pulled from the two-man line and all but thrown onto the bench. "Sit there. Behavior yourself." Her mother's voice was always a cold demand. Hori curled into herself, rocking slightly for comfort. 

Shuu stopped behind the bench, unsure of what to do but feeling the anger in his throat.  _ What does a gentleman do, though _ ?

"Chie-san," Matsumae spoke. Shuu didn't often hear this tone of voice, it was deceivingly polite. He'd only heard it in times that she was protective of him towards the older relatives that intended to control his fate. "Might I speak with you? Away from the children, preferably."

There was a brief standoff before Chie's mother agreed. The older pair stepped aside, letting Shuu sneak his way to Hori's side. 

"Chie-san," she began again once they were farther from earshot. "You had informed me that Hori-chan is ‘on the spectrum.’ I have to admit, I did not really know what this meant, so I did some research. Everything I found explained that someone with her condition will socialize differently than her peers. She will continuously struggle with social cues, with auditory processing, and with understanding commands. If I may suggest, trying a more patient approach might make the young one more willing to cooperate-"

"Blah, blah, you talk so formal," Chie's mother laughed, trying to maintain a polite attitude but visibly annoyed. "Listen, I know you mean well, and I mean you no offense but I'm not so sure I should take advice from someone who's son doesn't call her 'mom.'" 

"He's my charge, not my son. That would be why."

"So you're not even a mother?"

"Lady Tsukiyama passed away a year ago. I've been his caretaker since then."

" _ So _ , to reiterate, you're not a mother." The older woman patted Matsumae's shoulder, a patronizing and dismissive act. "When you have your own, you'll understand. And I hope for your sake, that you'll be luckier than I have been."

Shuu may have been the only one to notice the white knuckled fists resting at Matsumae's sides, or the way she trembled, only slightly, in anger. Rather, in  _ rage. _

The routine of the park quickly fixed itself into the childrens’ schedules. More often than not, Matsumae found herself keeping a watchful eye on both of them, as Hori’s mother frequently excused herself and left the pair in her capable hands.

She much preferred it this way.

The two became close quickly, as Shuu was adept at reading Hori’s quirks, and Hori was quick to catch onto the oddities of ghouls. 

The summer heat wave passed, and led to the cool breeze carrying the beginnings of warm colored leaves.

“School starts soon. We won’t be able to come here as often,” Shuu complained.

“Does that mean you won’t see you anymore?”

“‘That  _ I _ won’t see you.’” Shuu corrected. He’d learned quickly enough that Hori tended to forget when ‘I’ and ‘you’ should be used, confusing pronouns often. “I don’t know, probably not as much.”

Hori picked through the wood chips, deep in thought. 

“But, you don’t have to be sad, Hochi,” he told her, watching her hands at work. Matsumae would scold him for doing the same, for getting dirt so deep under his nails. He didn’t like the feeling anyway, and never understood why Hori did. “You don’t have to be sad, ever, because we’re going to get married one day, remember?”

“You’re weird,” she reminded him.

He laughed. “You won’t be allowed to be mean to me when I’m your husband. You get arrested for that and go to jail.”

“Kids driving you insane yet, Mats?” Matsumae heard the woman’s voice call behind her as she returned to the park. Matsumae suppressed the urge to sigh. Things were so pleasant when it was just the three of them.

“Welcome back, Chie-san. Complete your errands?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, thanks again. She didn’t cause you trouble, did she?”

“She never does,” Matsumae assured. 

“Here, got you a little present, for always watching my girl,” she said, handing Matsumae a can of cold brewed coffee, though the ‘cold’ had long since faded. “Figured you’ll need the energy if you’re going to insist on always chasing them around.”

Matsumae tried to decline, but the mother was insistent. She held the lukewarm can of coffee in her hands, genuinely surprised by the gesture. “...Thank you, this is considerate of you.”

Her gratitude was waved off, with reiterations that it was needed. Chie's mother sat beside her, watching as Shuu proded and coaxed Hori from her own world and back to his, pleading with her to come play with him and not just the dirt. When she inevitably agreed, the young pair spent the rest of the day running and playing their own variations of common games. The two would often hide up in trees or deep within the playground, out of sight. 

Once free of watchful eyes, they were free to be whoever they wanted. Shuu could be a ghoul, could show off the skills he'd learned in training sessions with Matsumae and talk about the frustrations of human food looking so much more presentable. He would ask Hori question after question about tastes and textures.

Hori could stim, could rock or flap or kick, just move freely and without judgement or punishment.

Up high amongst the branches and leaves, the two could hide from the dangers and judgement of the world below and be who they were meant to be. 

The last week before school was scheduled to start again meant the leaves provided less cover than when they first met a month earlier. The trees slowly bared themselves, exposing the hiding couple. 

"I wish we could go to the same school," Shuu complained, concerned about the approaching deadline of the school year.

Hori nodded in agreement, more focused on framing the world through her camera's viewfinder.

“You really like that thing, huh,” Shuu commented. 

In place of a response, Hori faced the display to him, flipping through a few pictures of mundane objects, of close ups on ant hills and snapshots of a clear blue sky.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted. They weren’t exciting, just snippets of everyday life.

“Me either.” She turned the camera back to herself and admired her works regardless.

“I’m going to play on the swings,” he informed her as he started climbing down.

She stayed up for a while longer, watching the world below through the viewfinder. Through the window of the camera, she found Shuu as he was stopped by other children, inviting him to their game of tag. 

_ ‘That’s cheating,’  _ she thought with a grin, as he proudly announced that he would win.

_ Click. _

Unbeknownst to him, the camera’s memory was sporadically filled with numerous shots of Shuu; Hori took pictures of what she liked. Pleasant memories, ones to hold onto and cherish. 

“I’ve found your boy, but where’d she run off to now?” Chie’s mother spoke absently, scanning through the park without much real effort to locate her own child.

“Likely just taking her time coming down. She enjoys hiding in the trees quite a bit.”

Chie scoffed. “Trouble, that’s what she enjoys.”

Matsuame’s jaw locked shut once again. A common occurrence, yet the urge to tear the mother beside her limb from limb was harder to ignore with each passing playdate.

"Chie-san," Matsumae started. "I would like to ask you something. Something a bit more personal."

"Ahh, want to ask an older mother for advice?"

Matsumae hid her grimace. "Do you like being a mother?"

"...Huh?"

"Do you like being a mother," she repeated.

"Tch, I'm sure I would have if I was lucky enough to have a kid like yours. Well, not  _ yours  _ but yours."

"To say that implies you feel your daughter is a nuisance. Am I correct?"

"...What's with you? Judgy, aren't you? You wouldn't know what it's like to have a child like her." 

"Would you believe me if I informed you Shuu-sama also has a disability?"

"...no, I don't really think I would."

"Dyslexia."

"Ha. I've seen him read, you won't make a fool out of me."

"A disability doesn't have to mean incapability. It means challenges that have to be addressed. Shuu-sama loves books but it takes him much longer to read a single page than his peers. We weren't aware of this until he started school. Once his reports came back that he was struggling, we changed his routine immediately."

"That's nice and all, but let's consider the difference here: a common learning disability and an entire personality disability. With your kind of money, you can pay for tutors and cram schools and everything until he's a normal boy without a care or problem in the world. She'll never be anything but a retard."

With poor timing, Hori had climbed her way down from the tree and onto the playground, flinching as the other children would rush past her. They were only spared half-hearted glances as they ran in circles around the park, with Shuu close on their trails.

“Just watch, take a good look, young one,” Chie spoke with a condescending tone. “See how much your boy’s disability is affecting him, and how much Hori’s affects her.”

To only prove her point, Shuu proudly claimed victory while Hori became trapped in a circling group of children inviting her to join them. She watched their shoes stop in front of her, heard calls and voices around her, but the overwhelming amount of noise incompasitated her. More than one child talking left her unable to hear any of the individual voices, a sea of sounds that drowned her. She put her hands over her ears, visibly grimacing as she sought for an escape.

Matsumae watched, feeling bitter. “She can learn. It’s overwhelming because she lacks the skills to handle it.”

“You think it’s so easy because everything’s been handed to you. If you were given a fair hand like I was, you’d see things for what they are.”

One child was insistent, repeating requests for her to join. When annoyed that Hori wouldn’t listen, he tried to grab her arm to pry off of her ear. 

The feeling of being touched scared her, and she swung with her other hand until it connected with his jaw.

Matsumae internally flinched, not for his sake but Hori’s.

“A disability doesn’t have to mean a death warrant,” Matsumae reiterated, with less faith that she could get through to the older woman.

The boy got up, only to take a swing back.

Matsumae stood, ready to leap into action, until she was caught by the wrist by the older woman. Looking back at her, at the condescending grin, Matsumae wondered what turned a child into this sadistic creature beside her.

“You want her to learn,  _ don’t you?  _ Let’s let her learn.”

“You’re leaving her to fend wolves without a weapon,” Matsumae snapped. “How can you expect her to survive if she isn’t taught how?”

“Let her burn her hand on the fire. She’ll learn not to reach for it again.”

Hori was a stronger child than people anticipated- meaning, the crowd of children gasped in surprise as she throttled the boy onto his back, straddled him and mercilessly punched at him in retaliation. The group stood, struck in a combination of morbid fascination and fear, as the boy cried and pleaded for her to stop. On the other side of the playground, Shuu had wondered where everyone ran off to, until he followed the scent and stumbled upon the scene.

“ _ Hochi, no!”  _ He shouted, sprinting to pull her off. He looped his arms under hers, pulling her up and dragging her as she kicked and screamed. “What is  _ wrong  _ with you? You don’t  _ do that!”  _

Hori merely screamed, wordless sounds as she was lost for words but filled with undefined emotions. Terrifying emotions.

Chie’s mother chuckled. “No, no, I see. You’re right, his  _ dyslexia _ is really debilitating.” 

Matsumae had heard enough. She ripped her wrist free of the woman’s grip, storming her way to the playground. 

“Matsumae, I don’t know what’s wrong with her, she’s- ow, ow, Matsumae!” The nanny gripped both children’s wrists tight, pulling them from the crowd and dragged them from the park. “Matsumae! I didn’t  _ do anything!”  _ He complained and he tried to pry himself free. Hori, on the other hand, let herself be dragged away, finally quieted.

Matsumae wasn’t sure where she was leading them, as they had long since left the park. She mentally scolded herself; acting on her own wishes to be away from the chaos now felt more like a selfish act than protecting the two. Said two merely walked alongside her, gripping either of her hands tightly. 

Shuu sighed, before finally speaking up. “I’m sorry, Matsumae.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Matsumae admitted, slowing them to a stop. She moved so she knelt in front of the pair, looking between them. She stayed on Hori, who wouldn’t return the eye contact but, Matsumae realized, was in fact listening. “That was dangerous, Hori-chan, you could have gotten yourself hurt. Do you understand?”

Silence.

“Hori-chan?”

“She can’t talk,” Shuu explained on her behalf. “She’s scared.”

Matsumae sat back on her heels, thoughtful. “Hori-chan, can you nod your head for me if you understand? You don’t have to speak to talk to me.”

Meekly, Hori nodded.

“Okay. Are you still scared?”

A nod.

“Of what?” Matsumae asked.

An unsure gaze scanned the ground.  _ ‘Yes or no only, I suppose,’  _ Matsumae noted, realizing her mistake. 

“Are you still scared of your mom?” Shuu asked. Matsumae felt surprised at his question, but it made sense immediately. She instead watched for Hori’s response.

A long pause before a nod. And then another,  _ very  _ sure this time.

She would protect this girl at all costs, Matsumae decided.

“We don’t have to go back right now,” she said. “Would you two like to walk around more?”

“I’m sure...Hori would like mochi,” Shuu hinted, a sly grin forming.

“ _ You  _ still cannot have mochi, Shuu-sama. But...if you wish for us to get some for Hori, I’m sure your father would understand our late return.”

Shuu perked up, cheering “yes, yes!” in victory at getting one step closer to this mystery he was not able to enjoy himself. 

Hori’s demeanor didn’t change, but she was easily led further from the park. Any fear she had of returning could be postponed, and within a few blocks, she regained some semblance of connection with reality around her.

A shop with brightly colored posters, of pictures large enough to show detail, and Shuu salivated at what only his imagination could create.

Matsumae was able to convince the shopkeeper to pull down the sign, much to his annoyance, after explaining that the young girl was nonverbal. It took a bit of coaxing, but Matsumae sat patiently with Hori while working on a way of communicating. She had assumed that pointing at pictures would be a sure way of talking, but it seemed to go as smoothly as pointing at words and asking Shuu to read them.

“Nonverbal and picky?” The shopkeeper complained, earning a glare from Matsumae so sharp that sent a shiver through him and prompted a quick “Well, when she decides, just let me know, I’ll be  _ waaay  _ over here!”

Hori finally tugged at Matsumae’s dress, and pointed to a plain chocolate mochi. Matsumae nodded, giving her a proud smile, before catching the shopkeeper’s attention.

Once outside, Matsumae stepped aside to answer a call. Hori bit into the snack while Shuu circled her like a shark to blood in the water.

“Hochi, hochi, what’s it like? What’s it like?”

“Clean,” she finally said. Messy foods bothered her: having something so neatly wrapped and easy to eat was a pleasant change. 

“That’s not a taste,” he complained. “C’mon, what’s it  _ like?” _

“It’s good.”

“You’re not helpful,” he sighed.

She shrugged.

“Can I have a bite?”

“I’m not allowed.”

“ _ You _ are. I’m not  _ supposed  _ to but just one won’t kill me. Come on, please? Please? Please, pelease, please?”

Annoyed, she took the remainder and shoved it in his mouth.

Almost instantaneously, he realized why he was not allowed to have it. He stubbornly swallowed it down, but regretted it immediately. Nauseous, he clutched at his stomach. “Uh oh.” She laughed at his misfortune. “Not  _ nice!”  _ he complained.

The three walked back when the sun had started its descent, dusting the sky shades of orange, pink and red. Shuu quietly whined most of the walk back, clutching his stomach, while Matsumae pretended to not notice. She had only a glimmer of righteous pride in her eyes, an “I told you so,” she would never speak. 

Once back at the park, the trio paused, all unsure of the next step. 

They would brave it together, seemed to be the silent agreement, as they each took their next step in time with each other. Once on the blacktop, Shuu noted that her scent was nowhere to be found.

"Maybe she went home?" Shuu suggested with an optimistic tone.

Hori wouldn't have been surprised if she'd been abandoned, and even less surprised if her mother had no intention of looking for her. She pulled her hand from Matsumae, feeling assured that she was safe as long as they stayed within the confines of the park, and knelt to pick at the heat peeled edges of asphalt. 

Shuu knelt beside her while Matsumae kept watch with all senses.

"Hochi, you're not still scared, are you?" 

He waited, but when her attention didn't turn to him, his smile faded to concern. 

"We're not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I mean, have you seen Matsumae fight? Oh, right you haven't, but you should!" He began rambling, half from his own anxiety and half to keep her company while she resided in her own world. 'Silent company' didn't mean  _ he  _ had to be silent. "She's really cool and she can kick anyone's butt and she's teaching me how to be like a real life knight. I'm going to be a real prince one day. That's what my papa tells me, and that would make you a queen. Did you know that queens don't need kings? Maybe I shouldn't tell you that, since I'm going to be your husband." 

Matsumae listened in with extraordinary hearing, smiling only a touch at child-like fantasies and optimistic futures, until her senses pulled her in a different direction- from the gates of the park, the scent she'd come to detest reemerged.

"Welcome back, Chie-san."

That same condescending smile, same depreciative tone, greeted her in return, awarm welcome with no warmth.

"I could have called the cops for you on kidnapping."

"Doing so would imply you wanted her back."

"Hm, she's still mine, and that won’t change" 

Matsumae could only glare in retaliation. There wasn't anything she could do to change that fact. 

"What are they doing?" She asked Matsumae, nodding to where the two knelt, to Shuu speaking endlessly and Hori's quiet work of collecting blacktop pieces. 

"Playing."

"You know, I don't understand you at all. She's rude to _your boy,_ literally ignoring him, but you defend her like she's yours. You surrogate mothers are hard to read."

Hori and Shuu could both hear the conversation behind them. Hori’s hair stood on end upon hearing her mother’s voice, the sound of sickly hidden cruelty in a polite tone. 

“Shuu?” Hori’s voice was quiet and croaked. It was the best she could manage; speaking through fear was normally an impossible task, but Shuu and Matsumae made her feel safe enough, enough that she could challenge herself. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you promise? Do you promise you’ll save me?”

“‘A gentleman never lies or breaks his promise,’” he repeated his father’s words, boasting. “I promise.”

“You better…”

Shuu was thoughtful, before leaning over, making a brazen decision to invade her personal space. He smooshed his lips to her cheek, pressing a kiss to her cheek, before sitting back and placing a hand over his heart. “There, sealed with a kiss. Now it’s fate.”

She stared at him, wide eyed and awestruck. 

Contact rarely felt so nice. 

An undefined, unknown emotion filled her throat until she found herself giggling, then laughing, and then her hands began flapping in absolute glee. ‘ _ She would be saved, he promised and now it’s fate.’ _ This kind of joy couldn’t be contained, and couldn’t be expressed through sound alone.  _ Happiness  _ resonated through her, expressed through rocking and her wrists and the snorting laugh she had.

Shuu watched with starry eyes. It was rare that she laughed in his presence, even rarer for it not to be at his expense. Adults mocked ‘puppy love,’ the way little kids could seemingly fall in love in a moment. Shuu was quite sure they were wrong, that this was real, he meant it wholeheartedly. He loved Chie Hori and he would save her no matter what.

The moment ended abruptly with a quick slap. Shuu hadn’t seen her mother approach, and he wished he had, as Hori’s joy drained from her face, replaced by a shocked terror and a silent cry. 

“How many  _ times _ -“ her mother hissed, “must I tell you to  _ stop doing that?”  _ She grabbed a Hori’s wrist, intending to make a point of how hand flapping was unacceptable. When Hori fought against her, struggling back and dropping her weight to the ground, her mother’s free hand reeled back again in preparation.

_ ‘I won’t let her-‘  _ Shuu decided. As he lurched forward to protect her, to take the hit, he closed his eyes and prepared for something that wouldn’t hurt him as long as it would hurt Hori. ‘ _ It’s what a gentleman does.’ _

But the feeling never came. He heard crickets chirping and peaked an eye open to see what took so long. 

Matsumae, kakugan blackened eyes and blood red irises, stood tall and radiated fury. Hori’s mother, who’s wrist was caught in the Tsukiyama servant’s hand, looked astounded at the younger woman, before catching onto the unnatural aspects of the nanny. 

“This is the  _ first _ time your daughter has expressed anything close to happiness in my presence,” Matsumae snarled. Her voice was so proper and controlled even when seething, a monotone growl that was more terrifying than if she had simply yelled. “And  _ this  _ is how you treat her?”

For once, her mother was the one afraid. “W-what the fuck are you?”

With an easy flick of her own, Matsumae twisted Chie’s wrist until she fell to the ground in pain. “You would be wise,  _ Miss Chie _ , to not harm this girl in front of me again.”

“What the  _ fuck _ are you?!”

“If I find even a bruise, a scratch,  _ anything _ ,” Matsumae hissed, “I will be the last thing you see.”

As Hori quietly gasped and shook in fear, Shuu took her hand gently in his own. A light squeeze was intended to remind her, he will be like Matsumae one day. 

She will be saved.

The following week, Shuu started a new year of school: a pretentious kindergarten with classmates of his own caliber, rich and well-off, intended for greatness and destined for success. 

They weren’t Hori, they weren’t interesting. He played nonetheless, loving being the center of attention, but each day, he thought of his friend. He missed her.

Every day, on their way home, Shuu and Matsumae would stop at the park, wait an hour, sometimes more, until Matsumae would sigh and have to coax Shuu down from trees or out from deep within the castle structure. 

“Shuu-sama, I don’t think she’s going to come here anymore.”

“It’s not  _ fair!”  _ He shouted, stubbornly climbing his way through the branches in the hopes of catching Hori’s scent. It wasn’t strong to begin with, and with each day it faded more and more. She hadn’t been to the park in weeks, not since he kissed her cheek and her mother hit her and Matsumae threatened to make the young girl an orphan. 

Matsumae sighed, agreeing with him, but insistent that his father will not be happy with such a late return.

With each week, Shuu became less and less insistent on staying. It was a wasted effort, and his frequent tutoring sessions and extra help took up much of his time. 

Instead, he practiced piano, spent hours re-reading pages in books he and Matsumae found at the library, practiced sparring with various servants of the home. Needing extra assistance only made for an easier excuse as to why he couldn’t join his classmates for lunch, now that he knew why he wouldn’t want to try a piece of the snacks they offered to him. 

He made new friends- he was able to make friends with just about everyone, and he loved the attention, revelled in it. His teachers doted on him, found him to be charming and helpful. He was the reliable student to always volunteer to help his peers. 

With each day, he thought just a bit less of a Chie Hori and the sound of her camera shutter and the way she climbed high in trees and the way she confused “you” and “I” and that she needed to be saved.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Until months, almost half a year later, that he and Matsumae ran into them by chance at a local shop. Matsumae had to bargain with Shuu just to get errands done; he was exhausted from back to back lessons, trainings and tutoring, but none of that mattered when he caught sight of messy brown hair- so much longer now, it seemed to rest and tangle past her shoulders- and a camera too large for someone so petite.

Shuu fell in love all over again, staring in wonder from a distance until he tried to dash out of Matsumae’s grasp and to her side. 

Matsumae gripped him tight, reigned him in close, and warned him to stay by her side while she took in the whole picture. 

Hori did not look well, not well cared for. Her hair was always messy but this was unkempt, tangled and knotted. Her clothes were always torn here to there from the young girl’s misadventures, but she looked now as though she’d worn them for a week straight.

Matsumae remembered the distant, dissociative look, a look that meant fear. Extraordinary eyesight and an intense eye of detail meant the purple and yellow blotches on the girls skin did not go unnoticed. 

“Matsumae, why aren’t we-“

“Hold on,” she pulled them to hide behind an aisle, stalking the young girl and scanning the store for signs of her mother. Said mother was just as Matsumae recalled, loud and rude, but now possibly intoxicated as well, arguing with a cashier about a coupon being expired for well over a year. Hori stood by her side, present only in physical form, and earned herself another bruise as she was not aware she was supposed to now follow her mother. Her mother stormed from the counter, dragging the protesting child and muttering curses and complaints about having to deal with ‘incompetent store keepers.’

Matsumae watched with fury biting at her tongue, a burning desire to rip the woman apart right then and there.

“Hey, Matsumae,” Shuu spoke quietly. “...a promise is a promise, right?”

“...yes, Shuu-sama, a promise is a promise.” Matsumae straightened out, instructed Shuu to stay close behind, and followed Chie and Hori without purchasing their own needed items. 

The pair followed close behind, with Matsumae silently taking notes on passing landmarks and street names to help her refind the Chie household. A modest home in a low income part of town, predictably poor. From across the street, Matsumae and Shuu watched as the front door was unlocked, and Hori was pushed in, the door slamming shut behind them.

A promise is a promise, a gentleman never breaks their promise

“What you did is not only  _ remarkably irresponsible- _ ” Shuu listened to his father’s ranting from behind the closed door of his office. He kept his ear pressed to the solid oak wood, trying to catch every word, as though they were intended for him.

To him, it felt as though they were. It was  _ his  _ friend she defended. It was  _ his  _ insistence on returning to the park, not to play but to protect her. 

It was his desire to be the knight in shining armor, to save Chie Hori, that Matsumae was acting on. 

"-you're putting the family name at risk." 

"I'm doing what was asked of me."

"You are doing anything but. Stalking a family in broad daylight, following them home, what makes you think I’m going to permit a hunt after you can be identified as being in the vicinity? I'm beginning to think maybe you're not well suited for this position at all, Matsumae. Perhaps personal feelings are beginning to cloud your judgement. Perhaps we should reassign-"

" _ No _ !" Matsumae snapped.

Tsukiyama Mirumo stood astounded, shocked by the well mannered servant's utter defiance. "Care to repeat that?"

Matsumae stammered, uncharacteristically afraid. "I-I, I can handle it. If you give me the opportunity, I assure you, this will not only  _ not _ draw attention to us, it will make the family look like upstanding citizens."

Mirumo scoffed. "Say we do go through with this, and by  _ no means _ am I saying this as permission...how do you plan on 'handling' it?"

"It could be simple...I would make arrangements on a Friday afternoon for the children to play Saturday morning. Friday evening, I leave only enough of her for the CCG to confirm it was a ghoul attack. Even later Friday evening, we have a feast. Saturday morning, we 'stumble upon' the unfortunate scene."

"You think this won’t attract attention, and that this girl won’t talk?”

"I  _ know _ she won't. And even if she does, there are more than enough people like her mother in her life. The CCG will find her to be a muted child at best and an unreliable witness at most... _ if _ she were to even witness anything. I'm  _ certain _ she won't."

"Planning on putting yourself and my boy there, to ‘discover’ the scene? Have you gone mad?"

"It makes the most sense- he's the only friend she has, the only one who would come looking for her. Think about it, sir, how  _ unfortunate _ it would be for us to get there too late, but we  _ charitably _ take in this orphaned girl, not only because we already care for her, but also to take off the pressure of adding another child to a CCG run orphanage, one that we know is overpopulated because we partially fund it, which really was a brilliant idea on your part sir, I must say-'

"Don't start buttering up. This plan is asinine, you're putting yourself at the scene,  _ directly  _ drawing attention to yourself. This kill will draw a line right back to you."

"Just like all my others? I haven't been caught yet, have I? It’s not like this would be the first time I’ve completed a hunt in broad daylight. I'm careful."

"Except now, you're emotionally involved."

"I can handle it."

Mirumo turned his back to her, to face the window overlooking the street. The quiet was suffocatingly strong, even from the other side of thick oak. Shuu could hear the anxious breaths Matsumae took while they waited for some kind of response.

"...You'd be wise not to fail, Matsumae."

A bottle shattered as it connected with the wall beside Hori’s head, just far enough that the splinters of glass reigned over her shoulder.

“ _ Another _ meeting with your teachers? What a waste of my fucking time,” her mother spat, taking a long chug from the fresh bottle of voka in her hands.

Hori had long since stopped responding, she stayed in her own world, free of this one, and only responded when reality demanded her to do so. She only flinched at the bottle being thrown at her, only choked back sobs that threatened her throat, and kept her tongue caged behind clenched teeth.

Hori wasn’t sure if it was Matsumae’s threat, or the constant insistence on her teachers to intervene in the family’s home life, or the increasing symptoms of her own condition rendering her speechless, that led to this spiral. But the past few months, ever since the day at the park, have been a spiral. The smell of alcohol reeked through the small two bedroom apartment, the constant threat of stepping on glass- from either broken bottles or the shattered remains of pictures from the walls, pictures her mother had long begun taking her rage out on, anything that reminded her of her deceased husband who’s pension wasn’t nearly suitable to sustain her desired lifestyle. 

“What do these fucking people care about some retarded mute?” 

Not a day had passed that Hori didn’t think of Shuu. She gripped her camera, the only connecting piece that assured her he was real, they did meet. The picture of their names carved into an old tree was the only reminder she had that proved what she couldn’t believe to be true- that anyone ever cared.

But he was gone. She was alone, and no one was coming to save her.

She laid in her bed, motionless, lifeless, to the point that the sound of her window sliding open didn’t phase her. 

In fact, Hori silently prayed maybe, just maybe, she would be so lucky as to be killed in the night.

“Hori-chan,” was whispered into the dark of the room. Hori heard it, but wasn’t so sure it was real. She’d dreamt of these scenarios before, this could have been another trick of an overactive imagination, a hopeful dream that would surely be ruined when her mother woke her tomorrow to complete chores while she went to her part-time work.

“Hori-chan,” this voice repeated, with soft inflection but underlying urgency. “I need you to stay in your room, okay? For the rest of the night, no matter what you hear, stay in here, okay?”

This dream was cruel, Hori thought. What kind of imagination could concoct something so cruel? Something that felt so real?

She only began to realize this may not have all been a dream when her hair was gently pulled from her face, tucked behind her ear, and her covers were pulled up and over her shoulder.

Another light touch, a gentle rub on her shoulder from the other side of the cover, and the intruder whispered to her again. “I apologize, I know you don’t like contact. I just want you to feel assured that I’m here. Now, please stay here. No matter what.” The touch became a slight squeeze, a reassuring gesture, before slipping into the darkness, out of her room and into the house to hide amongst the shadows of the home. 

Hori slipped her hands over her ears and tried with all her might to fall asleep. 

Chain smoking cigarettes from the kitchen table and reviewing multiple requests from Hori’s teachers for a meeting to discuss concerns about the young girl’s care, Hori’s mother muttered and drank as she did every night. 

Her pre-school the year before was used to her, but moving up to kindergarten meant new teachers, new aides, new child psychologists and new concerns that Hori’s condition may be more debilitating than it needed to be. Her mother would have kept her in pre-school if she knew the trouble she’d deal with now. In her mind, the girl would never achieve anything beyond that stage of life anyway. She would be lucky to finish junior high, and her mother could leech off of the disability checks until Hori was old enough to be put into some kind of full-time institution- that was a problem for the future, she considered. 

Her attention was finally drawn up from her liquor and papers when she heard the distinct sound of high heels click on kitchen tile.

Obviously a woman in a well tailored suit, but an intricately decorated white mask above a polite, tight smile hid her identity. 

“The fuck- who are you and how did you get in here? Told that damn girl to lock the doors-”

The polite smile strained before turning to a sickly grin. The intruder took another step onto tiled floors, the click resonating through the small space.

“...If you want money, we don’t have any. Damn husband made sure of that when he died too soon.”

Two more steps in, the slow introduction resulted in the woman of the household standing slowly from her seat and backing herself into the counter behind her. She had every intention of lunging for the knife block beside her, eyeing the butcher knife from the corner of her eye.

“What the fuck do you want from me?”

The clicks stopped a few feet away, close enough that she could now tell the mask was decorated with red roses and some specks of blood and beneath it were black and red eyes.

She gasped, and made her move to the knife block, terror filling her as she remembered those eyes and the threats that accompanied them. 

A koukaku kagune ripped through the tailored jacket and interrupted the woman’s attempt at arming herself. A single slash and the mother was knocked to the ground. She sat, scrambling back against the cabinets and tried to shield herself with her hands.

“I  _ believe,”  _ Matsumae finally spoke, as quietly as she had with Hori but with no concerns of hiding her hatred now. “I was quite clear. Even a single bruise-”

“S-she’s retarded, she hits herself, she does it all the time. Violent little brat, you believe me don’t you? No one believes me, she does it to herself, I’m always being blamed, but s-she- please don’t kill me, she’s the one that-” Hori’s mother pleaded for her life through snot filled sobs and cries.

“-and I will be the last thing you see.”

An hour or so later, Shuu had a mischievous grin as he pleaded to be the one to announce dinner for the evening. 

“So, miss, can you tell me what happened?” A man with a white trench coat tried. Hori sat on the steps of her family’s home, adjusting the focus on her camera, while CCG agents put up caution tape around the scene. Shuu and Matsumae stood off to the side, with Mastumae acting the perfect part of a concerned citizen, telling as much as she could to another agent.

“Miss? Honey, I need you to put the camera down, okay?”

Hori ignored the request, instead bringing the viewfinder to her eye and clicking the button, capturing the exhausted agent’s face as he tried to again get her attention. He sighed, left her be, and went to join his partner to question Matsumae instead. 

“She, uh, always quiet like that? I imagine waking up to a bloodbath like she did can scare a kid silent but she seems a bit…”

“She lives a bit in her own world, I’m afraid. I worry she might not be aware of what’s even happened. Poor dear.”

He nodded. “Alright, so mind if I ask you a few questions instead? You said you guys came by for a playdate? You’ve known the family for long?”

“We met Chie-san and her daughter last summer at the new park that was built, the one on 11th?”

“Ah, yeah, my girl loves that one, big ol’ wooden one,” the partner commented. 

“Precisely. But after school started, well, they both have such difficult learning disabilities, they didn’t have much time to play. But mine here, well he missed her and was begging for months, so I arranged something yesterday, or at least I tried to. I never heard back, so we thought we would just try and stop by. Oh dear, you don’t think she could have...Could this be why she didn’t answer?”

“I can’t go into details, but it seems that it was later in the evening. Do you have any idea of any enemies she might have had?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Alright...And uh, do you know if the girl has anywhere else to go?”

“I’m...afraid not. I believe her father has passed, and she doesn’t have any uncles or aunts that I’m aware of.”

The CCG agents scratched at their necks, worried about having to add  _ another _ child orphaned by a ghoul attack to the overrun orphanage.

And as he was instructed, right on cue, Shuu tugged at the ends of Matsumae’s dress, asking if that meant Hori could come live with them.

“I-I don’t know,” she feigned surprise, concern, and deep thought. She looked to the agents. “Would that be an issue? We certainly have the resources to care for her.”

“That’s, uh, up to you I guess. We might just need an address so we can do follow up questioning.”

“You’re more than welcome to come by the Tsukiyama estate-”

“‘T-Tsukiyama?’ Like the, uh, Tsukiyama family, big business and globally connected Tsukiyama?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

The agents glanced at one another. “You guys are, uh...pretty big funders for the orphanage we run.”

Matsumae nodded. “The work you do cannot be praised enough, caring for such vulnerable and unfortunate souls. We truly feel for the tragedy they lived through. Many know, but Lady Tsukiyama was killed last year by a ghoul, and I feel this has only re-energized the head of the household’s passion for the CCG’s cause,” she lied flawlessly. She was killed, sure, but by an Aogiri member from what they could tell. Tragic as it was, it was a more than perfect cover and one that gave the family plenty of cover beneath the CCG’s noses. She feigned a more flirtatious demeanor, very out-of-character for her but perfect for the part. She leaned to them and whispered behind her hand. “Don’t tell anyone, but for all the big-and-scary acts he puts on, Tsukiyama-sama is quite a softie. Big heart, especially for children.”

The agents chuckled, still nervous about anything that could upset said ‘softie.’ “Well, in that case, we will be sure to contact you if we have any follow up questions.”

“ _ Miss  _ Hori,” Mirumo spoke proudly across his desk and to the newly made orphan. Hori sat atop numerous phonebooks so he could see her as she was too petite to get onto the chair in the first place. She mainly took in the details of the office, the colors of the book spines on the shelf and decor pieces- she desperately wanted to get off the uncomfortable chair and play instead with the dark blue and white globe that rested on a buffet table to their side. “ _ Miss Hori,”  _ he reiterated with some impatience when she did not look in his direction. 

Matsumae stood with her back to the wall behind him, trying to discreetly catch her attention and keep it there. 

“I would like to make one thing clear: nothing in life comes free. I expect that while you live under my home, you will act appropriately to the best of your abilities. Matsumae will be your caretaker until you are old enough to work. From there, it will be your decision- live here and work as a servant of the home, or find your own way. We will revisit that when we are closer to working age, but I want this to be clear now: you living here will come with mutual expectations.”

Matsumae sighed, hushed to keep his attention on the matter at hand but annoyed nonetheless by his lack of understanding. Children  _ in general  _ wouldn’t understand this talk, let alone one that does not live in a reality as he understands it. Matsumae listened to his words carefully, mentally pulled them apart and pieced them back together into what will need to be her own conversation with the young miss later on. 

All Matsumae could hope for now was for Hori to guess correctly, answer what she was expected to, so the two could be dismissed and Matsumae could try on her own. 

“Do you understand,  _ miss? _ ”

“I guess so.”

“You guess?”

“Sure.”

Mirumo sighed, turning to Matsumae for guidance. Matsumae wasn't sure how she was expected to respond.

"Can I go play now?" Hori asked. 

Mirumo instead glared at Matsumae. 

Matsumae let her go, to search and explore the expansive manor that she could now call home, and made her best efforts to distract the frustrated head of the household.

If Hori were to describe the years following her mother's death, she would only be able to say it was a dream.

Their childhood years were spent getting into trouble and making Matsumae tired. Shuu made maps of the estate, detailed routes to evade getting caught, and schedules for secret meetings late in the night.

She woke up each day in what Matsumae called a modest room but Hori could stretch out, roll, build forts- she had become an expert on making forts, building sturdy compounds that she and Shuu could hide under for hours.

She went to the same school but her teachers all gave her nice comments on her report cards now and talked about how the simple addition of an aide service and an additional class on 'social skills' has made all the difference. Said class sometimes meant fun things like outings and field trips 'normal' kids didn't get to do, and sometimes it meant having to  _ talk _ . Those days she didn't like as much. 

But she talked. Hori's teachers all watched as, with each year, she added to her vocabulary. She spoke clearly, correctly, and often. She was blunt, at times rude by mistake, but that was another lesson day she didn't like.

While she did not regret her decision, Matsumae found herself thinking that she may have bitten off more than she could chew. She flipped through articles on a tablet in the kitchen, apron donned but an exasperated expression. 

Hori poked through, peering over the counter to the device. 

"Whatcha doing?"

"Trying to educate myself. I am not well versed in human foods. I have to admit, I don't know how to feed you."

"You can just buy microwave rice and noodles. I know how to make those."

"We don't own a microwave."

"...you can just buy a microwave."

"Everything I've read says microwave foods have very little nutritional value. What fruits do you like?"

"I don't."

"Vegetables?"

"Double don't."

"We will have to do some experiments."

"That makes it sound cool. I'll eat a pepper if you can make it cool."

The overworked woman had no concept of what that would entail, and decided that the easier method would be to let the young girl loose in a supermarket and make her own decisions, with some guidance from numerous blogs and articles. 

This, however, ended with the pair being asked to leave, as letting a six year old taste test every product and spit out the ones she doesn't like does not go over well with other patrons.

It wasn't until years later that Hori wondered if this experimental approach to her diet might have been the cause of her stunted growth.

With each year, Hori understood more and more why her and Shuu's shared caretaker ran on caffeine and sleep deprivation: her work ethic was beyond that of just doing her job well. Matsumae made both charges as her life's purpose. She was incredibly involved in every facet of their lives; school, extracurricular activities, training and hobbies, Matsumae was present on the sidelines to cheer them on, politely of course. 

Matsumae had insisted on taking any advice or guidance given by the school psychologist to heart, very literally at times. Some days this meant challenges and rewards, such as this day:

"Hori-chan, I understand you don't like this, but I am  _ begging you _ ," Matsumae pleaded, unusually informal. " _ Please stop  _ hiding under the poor woman's chair."

Hori grunted a refusal, shaking her head and cowering lower to the ground. 

"Hori, a manicure is meant to be a nice experience. She will barely touch you, just your hands."

"Not uh!"

Other mothers in the salon gave Matsumae pitying looks, some whispering suspicions that 'the girl may be slow, she looks too old to throw a temper tantrum.'

The last meeting had focused on touch aversion, and how this seems to be the only area she is still struggling heavily. Hori had recently gotten into another physical altercation when a classmate touched her and she relentlessly beat her for doing so. 

Mirumo questioned if the efforts were even worth it. Matsumae insisted that a reward-based learning process, versus a punishment one, would be their key. This was what all of the parenting textbooks said, at least. 

Matsumae knelt to sit on her heels, eyeing Hori. "I will ask you once more to get up."

Hori instead looked around the salon, at the various color schemes and the equipment, overwhelmed by the sounds of chatter and a nail grinder. The sound of running water caught her attention, drawing it to the large reclining chairs along the back wall.

Hori motioned to it, nodding her chin towards them. "What's that?"

"A pedicure chair."

“What’s that?”

“When you care for your feet instead of your hands.”

“...That.”

“You’re willing to try that instead?”

“Mm.”

Matsumae hummed to herself, before nodding. “Come out from under there now, please. Ma’am, I would like to change our appointment.”

Hori did so cautiously, as though it could be a trick. The salon technician nodded, pleased and set out to prepare a chair.

“You too,” Hori said.

“Hm?”

“You do it too.”

“...I’m not sur-”

“You too.”

A silent standoff ensued until Matsumae agreed, and added one more to their appointment. Hori climbed her way into the chair, short legs hanging off. The staff tried to help adjust it, but gave up when Hori fought off their assistance. 

For a brief moment, she reminded Matsumae of her mother with how combative she could become. The way her face would twist, how she would scowl at those around her when unhappy, was reminiscent; the difference was Hori was learning better. With a quick scold, she was easily redirected, and reminded to apologize. And with this, she allowed the staff to try and help her, voicing complaints as politely as she could, until she was set and the water bath filled with water.

Hori leaned to examine the water bath before reaching like a cat to swat at the running faucet. 

"Hori-chan, don't splash," Matsumae instructed as she settled down beside her.

"I won't," she said, carefully pawing at the water. 

From the outside, the event looked like an odd mother-daughter couple bonding. An overworked and exhausted mother and her disruptive but willing child trying something new together. Throughout the procedure, Hori would speak when anxious, a new trait she had developed through school. It wasn’t conversation, so much as her explaining to Matsumae every bit of information she learned about cameras and film history from books she found at school. 

Matsumae was just relieved to have finally seen the day when the young girl spoke when afraid, braving the stress of a stranger touching her skin. It doesn’t matter what coping skill she used so long as it did not lead to her harming herself or others, or caused her to retreat further back into her shell. 

Small steps, challenges addressed together.

She and Shuu spent every day together, inseparable throughout their childhood years. Once Shuu returned home from school, Hori would be waiting with Matsumae to greet him, before both would take off to cause trouble.

The two often laid on the floor of the study, papers and books surrounding them, with Matsumae seated at the desk beside them. Some days, she read her own novels while Shuu would struggle with his reading homework until Hori would peek over, read the kanji aloud in a monotone voice and Shuu would complain about her lacking presentation. 

"You have to make it  _ fun,  _ Hori."

"You can read it by yourself if you-"

"You  _ know  _ I can't," Shuu whined. He rolled onto his back, whining further up to the ceiling in frustration. "I'm  _ bored. _ Matsumae, I'm bored. Matsumae, Matsumae, I'm bored."

"I heard you, Shuu-sama."

"But I'm bored."

"Yes. And you have to finish your homework."

"Can't we train now instead? I have to train anyway, right?"

"Homework first."

"But I have too much energy." He shot upright and faced the servant. "What if I promise to do my own reading, by myself, if we train now instead?"

"Are you trying to bargain with what you're already supposed to be doing?" 

"Hochi can take pictures."

"Pictures she has been reminded she shouldn't take."

"I don't  _ do  _ anything with them," she interjected, picking the device up defensively.

"Come on, Matsumae, come on,  _ pleeease?" _

A very long, very tired sigh, and Matsumae shut her book.

The three then found themselves in the greenhouse where she tended to prefer to hold training sessions. Training in less than ideal conditions made for better combat down the line. 

“Shuu-sama, shall we make this a game, or a proper sparring match?”

“Hmm, I think a regular match, though ‘capture the flag’ was fun last time.”

Matsumae nodded, removing the tailored jacket of her suit and tossed it aside. 

Matsumae rolled her shoulders, stretched her arms and tested her joints while Shuu bounced from heel to heel in anticipation. 

"Weapon ready," Matsumae instructed, and the violet kagune shot out and coiled around the young ghoul's arm, as he was taught. 

Matsumae made it a fair fight, and didn't use her own. Shuu would rush, jump, dive and lunge at her with the spiralized weapon, missing each time with more and more space as Matsumae dodged each attack with graceful steps.

_ Click. _

It never took long before Shuu would tire out, exhausted from hoisting such a heavy weapon. He would whine and complain about how unfair this type is, cursing the family line for being koukaku users and not something more fair like a bikaku.

"Each type has their advantages," Matsumae always reminded him as she made him rerun drills. "You can learn to be fast, you can build your stamina, but a ukaku user will never be able to form such a strong defense. Don't drop your shoulder, hold yourself high."

Shuu heaved through breaths, then whined that it hurt.

"You can become stronger, so strong that no one will be able to pierce through. From there, your attack will be dense, full body, like being hit with a brick wall. Stance, Shuu-sama, watch your stance."

_ Click.  _

Hori wasn't sure why Shuu pleaded so much to train, when he would inevitably end drenched in sweat and complaining of shoulder pains long before Matsumae had even broken a sweat. Fighting in her uniform wasn't an issue if Shuu couldn't get close. Fighting without a kagune was simple when he rarely made a close attack. She was faster than him, blurred movements as she dodged his every attempt and made him work tirelessly.

It was the only time she seemed lively and he looked exhausted. But that was her goal, to make him work through the exhaustion and grow accustomed to wielding a dense kagune meant to be a shield but manipulated outside of its intended use. It was what made the family so powerful, she thought, the ability to change the hand fate gave them into something that benefited them, regardless of circumstance. 

_ Magnifique. _

Unusually careless, Matsumae gasped in pain and looked down in shock at the kagune pierced through her shin. Shuu took advantage of the far-off look she had, and aimed low, spearing the blade's end of the kagune through her leg.

He grinned proud, a wide smile across his face as he boasted his brief victory. He prided himself on the quick wit to take advantage of her being distracted, proud that he recognized it and took hold of the opportunity. 

This victory was short lived, as Matsumae braced through the mild pain of her impaled leg, raised her other leg, and swung a roundhouse kick to the young ghoul until it connected with his jaw and sent him flying across the greenhouse.

_ Click, click, click. _

Matsumae brushed at the tattered pant leg, her leg already healed beneath the torn fabric, and called to him. “A very good attack, young master, but a shield is useless if you aren’t prepared to use it. Don’t spend so long boasting a victory if you’re not sure, without a doubt, that you’ve won.”

Shuu slowly dug himself from broken flower pots, spitting dirt that clung to his lips. “I think you win.”

“Very well. Are you ready to complete your homework,  _ without  _ mine or Miss Hori’s help?”

Shuu groaned, and laid back into the dirt.

_ Click. _

"I can't wear this."

"I apologize, but it is required."

"I can't though."

"A uniform is-"

"I  _ can't!"  _

The day of Hori’s twelfth birthday meant that she would begin working as a member of the home, as per an agreement Matsumae and Mirumo came to years prior. 

Matsumae sighed. She had predicted difficulties, prepared herself for years on how she would handle the challenges of teaching Hori to become a servant of the household, but she, for whatever reason, didn't anticipate it being right off the bat. 

Hori couldn't find the words to explain that the stiff cotton of the maid's dress, the lace endings of the long sleeves, the tight rounded collar, all combined, made her skin crawl. She just knew she needed  _ out. _ She clawed desperately at the button keeping the dress closed, ready to tear the fabric apart if it meant freedom.

"Is it because it's a dress?"

"Dresses are fine, well not fine because I'm never allowed to do anything in them," Hori worked to explain through strained efforts to unclasp the button. "I can't take  _ this _ ." When she failed to undo the clasp, she instead tended to the areas affected, scratching at her wrists until they were bright red and her neck showed claw marks.

Matsumae quieted, deep in thought. 

A disability doesn't mean incapability, it means challenges that need to be addressed.

"It's not the dress, it's what it's made of?" 

"I guess? I don't know. I just hate this."

"...Come with me," Matsumae said, leading Hori back from the servants' closet to Hori's bedroom. Matsumae helped Hori take the dress off, watching the girl free herself from the uniform like an animal freeing themself from a snare, and left her to change into her own clothes. Matsumae returned nearly two hours later to find Hori playing on her own.

"Try it now," Matsumae instructed. 

It wasn't great, but it was better. The material was softer, though the lace still bothered her.

"Cotton is stiff until washed. A dryer also changes the material quite a bit."

Hori could stand the feeling of the dress but scratched at her wrists until bright red lines reemerged. Matsumae sought out a pair of scissors and removed the trimmings from the hemline with precision.

"Better?"

"Mm," Hori hummed in agreement. "Will I get in trouble for not having the frilly part?"

"I will handle it. We have a lot to go over, so please stay with me."

In front of a crowd of faces she knew well, Hori hid behind Matsumae's leg, self conscious and uncomfortable with the attention on her.

"...and so from this point on, Hori is going to be working with us. She will report to me and me only," Matsumae explained. "Any complaints and concerns are to be handled with me directly."

"As you can imagine, a household of this size comes with a lot of costs, so this is one method for us to be more cost effective," Matsumae explained as she and Hori carried their laundry to the clothes lines in the yard. 

Hori half listened as she struggled with her overflowing basket. "Expect Shuu and Mirumo-sama," Hori added. "Because  _ their clothes _ get dry cleaned." 

"Yes, their clothes are dry cleaned."

Warm summer breezes swayed and blew through the clothes as they were pinned to the clothesline. The pair worked quietly in swift rehearsed movements. 

Matsumae kept glancing down the line at the young girl, this growing young girl, who had now spent as much of her life at the estate as she had in her mother’s clutches. 

Matsumae wasn’t sure where the years had gone. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore, Hori was still so petite, small in stature, but she was certainly growing into her own. Her hair was long, down today and occasionally swept up in the breeze. 

She looked like her mother, Matsumae thought. Like her mother, if she hadn’t grown to be a cold, sadistic individual.

The years that Matsumae raised Hori alongside Shuu had only felt natural, it felt right. Having the girl as an addition to the home made things more welcoming. In a sense, Hori’s presence replaced the melancholy tension that Lady Tsukiyama’s death has created, a havoc-creating mouse that distracted the servants and relatives from the pain of losing someone so dear. And to have removed the child from a home to turbulent, so controlling and abusive-

But, Matsumae often wondered, was it really her place to have done something? Was this really what Hori wanted, a life of servitude? She was adjusting well during her first few months of working, but Matsumae couldn’t ignore the increasing volume of her conscience reminding her of Chie-san’s own words: “she's still mine, and that won’t change" 

“Hori-chan...Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” 

“Something that may be upsetting to you?”

“Not a whole lot upsets me,” Hori reminded her. “You seem sad. Are you sad?”

“You’re getting much better at recognizing others’ emotions.”

“Does that mean I’m right?”

Matsumae turned to face Hori, unsure of herself. “...do you hold any resentment towards me?”

“What?” Hori turned to face Matsumae as well. “Why would I?”

“For...For killing your mother.”

Hori blinked, slowly processed the words, and then turned back to her laundry, deep in thought. Matsumae waited for any kind of change in her demeanor, worried that the silence was an indication of old habits, of painful memories, of  _ fear.  _ Matsumae ran through and calculated the probability of every reaction Hori could have had, and tried to ready herself. She only wished she hadn’t been so impulsive in asking; she would have preferred more time to plan this appropriately.

The soft summer breeze touched both women, carrying air that was soft and warm but brought Matsumae little relief.

Hori merely felt the material of the towel strung on the line, taking in the texture between her fingers with an expression Matsumae found to be especially difficult to read. Then she snickered, a quiet noise that crescendoed into laughter.

Matsumae worried she caused some kind of psychotic break until Hori turned back to her with a smile so sincere, warm and accepting. 

“To think,” Hori started, “that all this time, I really thought Shuu had more to do with it. For all his talk of being a knight or prince or whatever, this just makes so much more sense. Boys don’t make very good knights, do they Matsumae?” She teased before returning to pinning her laundry to the clothesline. “‘Queens don’t need kings,’ he told me that himself. Makes sense though, right? Never trust a prince to do a queen’s job.” Over her shoulder, she called to Matsumae who stood stunned. “Girls make for better knights, don’t you think? Like Joan of Arc!"

That night, Hori scrutinized her reflection. Every curve of her face, the long thick hair that rested lifelessly against it, the brown in her eyes, were all reminiscent of the late mother she had all but forgotten. She had gladly forgotten. There wasn't much to cling to, there was no love lost.

But the memories came back when Matsumae asked, and now Hori felt she couldn't unsee the reflection of her mother in her own face.

She merely stared at her reflection and searched for anything that could sever that last tie, anything to alter the image and denounce her mother once and for all. 

Her hair, she realized, was probably the only thing she could change. But change, she could. She made quick work of searching for scissors and returned to her mirror, taking quick measurements before deciding on the length. 

A generous chunk fell to the sink. Then another. Choppy cuts first to take the length off, high above her shoulders. Her hair was thick, the uneven cuts made the ends stick out in all directions, she noted with a touch of annoyance. She did what she could.

When it was even enough, she admired her work. Short, like Matsumae's. Her hair was too puffy to be tidy and neat like her guardian, but the small change, the conscious decision to become more like her chosen mother, was a reassurance of its own.

The next morning, Shuu stared, jaw slack, at the sudden change in her appearance. "H-Hori, what...happened?"

"What?"

"Your hair?"

"Oh. It's a Knight's cut."

A day trip to run errands usually meant picking up dry cleaning, dropping off library books and sometimes shopping. Today, Matsumae decided she wanted to let the young servant have a little longer away from the manor. It was obvious that the adjustment period was difficult, changing from a life of freedom and fun to a rigid schedule and chores.

Hori didn’t mind the chores, but the change in routine was hard on her. She often didn’t understand why some days she had free time to play and sometimes she had more work than the last. Consistency was more reassuring than being given a break. 

Once the last errand was scratched off the list, Matsumae explained that she had planned a surprise for Hori, much to Hori’s confusion. She followed her guardian through the packed city streets until they reached a storefront with “vintage” and “antique” plastered over the glass. 

Hori tilted her head, reading the signs with little idea what this had to do with her. Matsumae took her hand and led her into the small shop, guiding Hori to a display case.

Wide and excited eyes, Hori pressed her face to the glass, admiring the vintage camera with awe. 

“A canon QL, correct? These are the models you like?” 

“They’re so nice, I really like film better even if digital cameras are faster,” Hori spoke while petting the glass. 

“Well, once I find someone who works here, it’s yours.”

“These...are really old.”

Matsumae was taken aback. “I’m...sorry. Is a newer model better? I thought that you would-“

“I mean, they’re worth a lot of money. Because they’re old. I can’t afford this, not with my allowance.”

“Paycheck, my dear. And I’m buying it for you, as a birthday gift."

"W-what? Why?"

"I...just thought, this might make you happy.”

It did, more so than Hori could find ways of expressing. Her body shook, trembled almost, in excitement and joy that she fought to keep contained. It had been years since she lived with her mother, but resonating fears of stimming stayed with her.

And Matsumae was determined to change that. 

Hori walked through the streets of Tokyo, watching through the new viewfinder with cautious decision. Film meant limited chances to take the perfect shot, and she wouldn’t know if it really came out perfect until the roll was complete. This meant every shot had to be calculated, framed just right.

Through the camera's window, she caught sight of a memory, and lowered the device to stare at the aging structure.

“Matsumae, is this...the same park?”

“It is.”

A moment passed where Hori watched children play from a distance, before she rocketed off at lightning speed to the playground, with Matsumae chasing behind her, chastising her recklessness. Hori dodged the playground itself, she held little attachment to the wooden castle or its wood chip ground or the peeling asphalt.

Hori instead counted the trees that surrounded the park, one two, three, fourth from the left, and immediately hoisted herself up and into the branches, just like she remembered.

Matsumae sighed, catching up and standing beneath the tree. She recalled with a touch of nostalgia the days where she pleaded with the two children to come down, and could only wish it was to take them both home.

It was muscle memory that brought Hori back to the branch she needed, to find the carving in oak. Nature attempted to take back her trunk, but Shuu had dug deep enough into the tree that Hori was sure their names would never disappear. 

After a long moment of reflection, Hori chided herself for not realizing the camera around her neck would need to mark its first image in film. She raised it to her eye and steadied her hand, just like with the camera she had inherited from her father.

_ Click. _

It was only amongst the cover of the trees that she let herself feel joy as freely and physically as she once did, a gradual step she made towards accepting herself for what others might not. 

Joy for being saved, joy for having a new prized possession, joy for having a guardian that truly loved her. 

“Papa doesn’t...think you’re a very good servant.”

“So?”

“ _ So,  _ he’s been talking about just letting you go when you graduate junior high. But if you go to high school he won’t! So you have to study really hard, so you can apply for a scholarship- because he also might have, kind of, said he won’t pay for it- but anyway if we get into the same school, he can’t fire you! And we can stay together and hang out all the time! It’ll be even better than it is now because we could have classes together!”

“You really do talk a lot.”

“Rude, Hori. Are you even listening? You’re going to be homeless.”

“I hear you, I hear you,” she muttered. She propped her elbow onto the table, resting her cheek in her palm, more or less pouting. She didn’t feel she was  _ that  _ bad of a servant.

By the time the pair turned thirteen, Hori was more than accustomed to working as a servant of the home while Shuu was coming into his role of “future head of household.” 

He was charming enough to be a politician, he played piano well enough for standing ovations, he still struggled with reading but more than made up for it with dedication, reading numerous books a week, the growing list of his talents only made his ego that much more unbearable. 

Hori, however, felt as though she was keeping afloat. It had been years since she realized that her life was in fact not one long, cruel dream, and that this was what fate had decided for her. Her social skills were adequate enough that she could function, but she had no friends in school, only socialized with Matsumae and Aliza and Shuu, was intentionally not scheduled to work during events the family hosted- and also very specifically instructed, by Mirumo himself, that she was not to step foot in the parlor, lest she bring shame to the household’s name- Hori accepted she was not going to be what the world considered to be ‘normal.’ She was fine with this, so long as she could be herself.

But that would be difficult to do if she were homeless. 

Hori sighed, and agreed to let Shuu help her apply for scholarships. She had one year to turn her grades from average-at-best to remarkable, and find a way of paying her way through four years of schooling. 

Between full time studying, working and managing a small photography operation for additional funds, it was the hardest Hori had worked in her entire life, and she did so without complaint. 

Matsumae supported her from the sidelines, secretly in awe of her junior’s dedication: late nights of reading while shining silverware, managing an online store while she submitted applications for every scholarship she could find, studying while preparing food alone in the kitchen.

Hori stood in the kitchen late into the evening, long after most of the other servants had gone to bed. Rules of the household were different for her, and she needed to wait until everyone else was done. This was arranged initially to protect her from seeing the carnage that is a ghoul’s meal, but in reality, was kept only because it was inconvenient for the others to include Hori. 

She didn’t mind, and kept her book propped up on a recipe stand while she prepared a bento box for herself.

“What are you still doing up?” Shuu asked, sneaking into the kitchen. He donned one of his more colorful sets of pajamas and matching slippers, and she bit back a comment about how ridiculous he looked.

“Making my food for tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you do that earlier in the day?”

“No time. I have to study and everyone else needs the kitchen more.”

Shuu leaned against the counter, peering around at her face, her tired expression. “Matsumae said you’re doing really well in all your classes. Do you think it’ll be enough to get you into Seinan with me?”

Hori sighed, putting the knife down. “I don’t know. I keep thinking it might not be worth it.”

“What, why?”

“It’s a lot of work, but for what? It’s not like I’m going to go to college.”

“Nonsense! You’re more than smart enough, and with the way your pictures are selling, well it’d be easy for us to put together a portfolio for you. You could probably go to any art school in Japan!”

“Art school?”

“Well, yeah. That’s where you go when you want a career in something like photography.”

She scoffed. “Who’s going to pay for art school? If I don’t get this scholarship, I can’t even afford high school. You said it yourself, your dad isn’t going to pay for me.”

Shuu fell quiet, thoughtful. “Well, you’ll have to put yourself through high school, but I figured by the time we graduate, I’ll be able to take over the household. I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t think the other servants are going to like me getting special treatment.” Hori noticed his posture change, the tension in his shoulders and the bright red coloring to his face. “...what?”

“N-nothing.”

“...What?” She repeated.

“We’re still going to get married, right? You didn’t forget, did you? If I’m head of the Tsukiyama household, and you’re my wife, then you won’t have to be a servant anymore. All of this was...just supposed to be short term.”

Hori watched him speak, how his hands moved on their own accord to fill the space and how his blush spread to his ears and throat. She laughed quietly, and elbowed him. “You’re weird.”

Weeks later, the mail came, and with it was the first time a piece of mail addressed directly to Hori. She, Matsumae and Shuu crowded the countertop of the kitchen in the late evening, with increasing anticipation. 

Matsumae gave the young woman a light squeeze on her shoulder. “Hori-chan, no matter what, you will still have a place here. I will make sure of it.”

“Don’t say that, Matsumae! That makes it sound like you don’t believe in her!”

“I have full faith, I’m just saying that-“

“Well don’t!”

“Can I open this?” Hori asked.

“I apologize.”

“Go ahead, Hochi.”

With an uneven, careless tear, Hori ripped the envelope open and examined its contents. She scanned through the letter with intense scrutiny while Shuu and Matsumae attempted to read from either side of her, reading above her short shoulders.

“...Well, guess I’m gonna need to sell more pictures. These uniforms are pricey.”

“I  _ knew  _ you could do it!” Shuu cheered, picking her up and twirling the startled servant.

Matsumae joined in, hugging the two tight and squeezing Hori between herself and Shuu, expressing her pride in the young charge’s hard work.

While they rarely had classes together, Shuu and Hori spent all of their free time by one another. Shuu introduced Hori to the friends he made in middle school, and made it a point to said friends that Hori will be included in their adventures. 

And against their protests and complaints, Hori was included. 

With every outing, party, or event Shuu was invited to join, Hori was sure to be there as well. It was with his insistence- and occasional threats of spreading rumors or social exclusion- that everyone just went along with the odd addition. This didn’t mean she was liked or welcomed, but Shuu’s middle school friends learned quickly enough that any criticism would be met with over-dramatic retribution. 

Shuu was too high on the social ladder to be touched, and he brought Hori up the rings with him. 

Even still, Hori was rarely liked, and Shuu’s friends would make this very apparent whenever he was out of earshot, forcing her to deal with years of ridicule.

She thought boys were cruel, how they tended to physically fight back when she acted out, until she began to learn that high school girls have their own ways of cruelty. Much more subtle, much harder to catch, but much more cruel.

All the girls that surrounded Shuu had their own prerogatives, and Hori picked up on this fact quickly enough. A rich boy with a sure-fire inheritance, there were more girls tailing him than Hori could count. 

And much to her dismay, he didn’t care when she spelled this fact out to him.

“Well of  _ course,  _ have you seen me? I’ve got all the makings of their dream husband.”

“But they’re just using you. Why are you letting them?”

“Hori, Hori, there’s more to life than petty mind games. I’ve got bigger prizes in mind,” he explained to her with a patronizing pat on her head. “For instance, have you noticed how toned the math tutor’s arms were?”

“...what?”

“They look delicious, I’ve been working out a plan for a hunt. You should come, it could be fun! You can take your pictures or whatever.” With a quick glance at his watch, Shuu noted that he was going to be late to his class, and dismissed Hori without a glance in her direction.

Hori didn’t have a name for the feeling trapped in her throat, but she knew it hurt and she knew she didn’t want to feel it.

It was only when she discovered for herself why fairy tales are reserved for stories and princes are more like politicians than like knights.

It was when she discovered Shuu hidden away with a girl from his class, a girl who’s name didn’t matter to Hori before today. An empty supply closet- how especially cruel of them to use the closet the school stored film and photography supplies- was secluded enough for them to kiss without getting caught by the teachers. Only by Hori.

She snuck away as quietly as she could, crushed with a new emotion she didn’t know the name for but felt with bitter rage.

Now she understood.

"Why are boys so _ stupid?" _

Matsumae chuckled. The two worked in the kitchen, Matsumae preparing dinner for Shuu and his father, while Hori cleaned beside her. Hori leaned against the counter with a particularly sour expression.

"It's a question women have been asking since the dawn of time."

"It's  _ frustrating." _

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"It's just, I don't get why he talks  _ so much  _ about us 'getting married' and 'living our lives together,' but then gets mad at me for questioning why he has like five girlfriends. Five, Matsumae! Not including me!"

"Becoming quite the Playboy, I see. Mirumo-sama won't be happy to hear that."

"Please don't mention it to him,” Hori sighed. “It's just annoying is all. And then the  _ worst part _ of all of the girls know about this, and they all compete and argue and two of them have threatened to fight me after school. Like, boys are super stupid but girls can be stupid too."

"A phase for many of them. Girls learn a lot of behaviors in high school that have to be unlearned later."

"It's stupid."

Matsumae chuckled again, until she saw that Hori looked genuinely upset. “It’s not like you to become so emotional.”

“It’s just not fair, is all,” Hori complained. “I’m sure he wouldn’t like it if I did that to him.”

“No, I’m sure he wouldn’t…” Matsumae said, thoughtful.

“...What’s this feeling, Matsumae? I don’t know what this is, I’ve never felt it, but I know I hate it.”

“If I were to guess, I would assume betrayal. Perhaps also jealousy?”

Hori scoffed. “‘Jealousy,’ yeah right. Sounds too human for me.”

Matsumae placed down the sponge and plate, dried her hands, and surprised her young charge as she pulled her in close for a hug. Matsumae squeezed tight around the girl’s shoulders. “You’re plenty human, ma petite souris.”

Hori let her without protest, even noting to her own surprise that it was not terrible, though she wouldn’t have chosen it.

“Boys are stupid,” Hori reiterated.

“They are. Girls make for better knights, and I have faith you will be a proud knight of this family one day.”

“If I don’t kill him first.”

“If we don’t kill him first.”

It wasn’t until their second year that they were actually scheduled in a class together, and it was with some irony that it was home economics.

“This will be a cake-walk,” Shuu bragged. “I’m already practically a master chef.”

“You cook humans.”

“And that’s got to be more difficult than making lowly ‘human foods,’ right?”

Hori hummed in thought. “So you know how to make a cake? If you’re my husband, every year on my birthday, you’ll have to make me a cake.”

“We have servants for that.”

“But you  _ just said”  _ Hori started to complain until they were interrupted by another of Shuu’s numerous admirers. The obvious change in his posture to something flirtatious prompted an eye roll and annoyed huff from Hori. 

As the class began, Hori sat on one side of Shuu while his other-other-other girlfriend sat on his other side. The course seemed to run about as well as the two expected, until the teacher began diving into some content that caught both Hori and Shuu off guard.

“Psst,” Shuu hissed to Hori. “Psst, hey, what the fuck is a ‘food group?’”

“I don’t fucking know,” Hori hissed back. “Thought you were a  _ master chef?” _

“I don’t know what you humans eat. How do you not know this?”

“How don’t you?”

The two listened back to the lesson, and only became increasingly more confused.

Hori never realized there was a categorization. Her meal planning was taught to her by Matsumae who, for as intelligent as she surely was, found herself helpless in this one area.

“Hori,” Shuu hissed again, “look it up.”

“ _ You!” _

“I can’t, because  _ someone  _ told Mats that I have more than one girlfriend and my dad took my phone, because ‘playboy behavior isn’t acceptable.’” Shuu muttered, moving his father's tone.

“Serves you right.”

“ _ Look. It. Up _ .”

“I don’t have enough data.”

“How? It’s like the third of the month.”

“I used my two gigs maintaining my site. Your dad doesn’t pay for  _ me _ .”

“Tsukiyama-kun, Chie-chan, since you two seem to have so much to discuss,” the teacher’s sweet smile became a tight line as she interrupted the pair’s bickering, “why don’t you each discuss a recipe we can make as a class.”

“A-ah, well it would be, it would be just so hard for me to pick. With my family, well you know my name so I don’t need to tell you, I just have such a diverse palette,” Shuu rambled in an unsure manner.

“Such as?”

“Well in, uh, in Europe they eat very differently.”

“...Such as?”

“...Well my dad says they don’t eat as well.”

“...Chie-chan, what about you?”

“I, uhm, I don’t really follow recipes. I usually just, uh, well it’s about 200 calories in protein, 100 in fats, and 200 in carbohydrates or vegetables per meal, three times- oh you do not look like that was the right answer,” Hori noted the teacher’s confused expression. 

“Bitch, you  _ did know,”  _ Shuu muttered.

“It’s, uhm, it’s not wrong, it’s just very...specific.”

“Oh, well, that’s just how I...know different foods...”

"Chie-chan, do you only know foods by their calorie and macronutrient counts?"

"...Well, how else do you balance out your diet?"

"I was, I was more looking for 'dairy, meats, oils,' but again you're not  _ wrong.  _ We’ll come back to that. Tsukiyama-kun, do you know _ anything _ about Europe outside of what your father's told you?"

"Of course, I went to Disney one summer as a child."

"...Which Disney?"

"The one in California."

"That's not- oh dear."

“He’s becoming quite arrogant,” Mirumo noted with annoyance.

“It seems so,” Matsumae agreed.

Mirumo tapped the end of his pen against his papers, deep in thought on how this fact could be remedied.

And Matsumae got to planning.

Hori wasn’t sure of the reasoning, but when Shuu didn’t come home on time, she knew there was little reason to be concerned. She reported the lateness to Matsumae nonetheless, and received a sympathetic pat on her head and assurances to not worry.

“I’m not worried,” Hori said. “It’s just weird. There was some kind of rumor going around that Shuu did something that would get him in trouble, and now he’s not home.”

Matsumae merely repeated reassurances that Hori need not worry and sent her to complete chores.

By supper, Shuu did return home, fuming angry and hurling curses of every kind towards anyone who dared step in his way, only stopping one or two servants to demand where Matsumae was.

Cowering in fear, they would inform him that she was waiting for him in the study. They were dismissed without care.

“Matsumae!” Shuu threw the doors of the study open, parading his way to her desk and smacked his hand on her table. “I need information on someone from the school. Do some digging for me, I’m going to need someone killed.”

“Oh?” Matsumae calmy worked around his outburst, typing without much interruption.

“Pay attention to me. Someone reported me to the administration and I was given  _ detention. _ ”

“Hm, I know.”

“You  _ know? _ ”

“I do work for the school as well, if you recall.”

“So why didn’t you do something about this?”

“I was informed they investigated the claim and it was true. I saw no reason to intervene.”

“I was accused of cheating on assignments-”

“And did you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh?” Matsumae closed her laptop gingerly, standing and clicking the light above her off. 

Annoyed with her lack of concern, he slapped her hand for turning the light off. “Sit back down, you have work to do. I want whoever’s brave and stupid enough to have reported me dead and served for breakfast tomorrow, understand?”

Matsumae smirked, and asked how he could be so sure a human was responsible.

“You…” Shuu stepped back once, his eyes widened.  _ “It was you. You’re  _ the reason I got detention?!”

Matsumae snickered, especially informal. “I apologize, I don’t mean to lose composure, but I must admit, I’m quite proud of myself on this one.”

“You are  _ what!  _ Why would you do that to me? You’re supposed to protect me. You’re not supposed to let bad things happen to me! You’re supposed to be my friend! _ ”  _ Shuu shouted. He became increasingly more animated, his body moved and swayed in order to act out the betrayal he felt.

“Oh, no, no, Shuu-sama, you misunderstand. I’m not your friend. I’m your guardian. And part of being a guardian means that, when you act poorly, you should be taught a lesson. You cheated off of Hori, and I don’t see why you should be rewarded for someone else’s work. Your arrogance is becoming concerning to your father, and if I may be so bold-”

“You may certainly not!”

“-I think you deserved harsher punishment than a single day of detention.”

Shuu stood in shock, hand over his chest. “How could you say that to me?”

“You’ve been cruel lately. Your actions have consequences. You’ve just been lucky enough to avoid them.” Matsumae’s smile began to fade as the fun of the situation fizzled into reality. “You’ve been cruel to a lot of people in the family, taking their kindness for granted. Your father in particular, who’s done everything in his power to give you the best. And you told him-“

“I didn’t mean to say it.”

“-that he should ‘hurry up and die.’” 

Hearing his words echoed back, Shuu cowered into himself, feeling as guilty as Matsumae had hoped. He sat back into one of the study's chairs, sinking into himself. Matsumae pulled her own chair closer to sit herself in front of him, and spoke earnestly. “Shuu-sama, I know adolescence is turbulent to say the least. I know that you have and will likely continue to feel and say and do things that you yourself don’t agree with. It is a part of growing up. There will be numerous things that, when you’re my age, you will regret. But the most important lesson I think you can take from your youth, is a simple proverb: live each day like it's your last. Spend each day with the love and curiosity for life that children feel, but treat your loved ones as though you will not see them again tomorrow. Fate is uncertain, the future is not determined, and you don’t know what your last words to someone will be until after you’ve said them. Make them meaningful. Do you understand?” Shuu nodded, gaze still down turned but he took her words to heart. “Good. And, while we’re on the subject, there’s a certain mouse that’s been quite upset with you.”

“She doesn’t like that I’m popular.”

“She doesn’t like that you don’t treat her the same when you’re with your friends.”

“...guess I should apologize to her too?”

“It would be wise.”

Shuu sighed, and nodded. “...Thanks Matsumae.”

A week or so later, Shuu had made a 180, taking “being a gentleman” to heart once again. He made better efforts to listen to his father, to be kind to their staff, treated Hori with respect, and acted with humility. 

Until Hori insulted him for attempting a middle part in his hair. Vanity may always be his vice, Matsumae considered with an exhausted sigh.

Late into the evening on a particularly long day, Matsumae finally clicked the lamp of the desk off in the study. She dragged her exhausted feet throughout the manor to the servants’ wing that held her room. Modest like most of the rooms, though a touch larger due to her seniority, Matsumae cursed the architect who placed it so far down into the hall. 

She stopped when she noticed that so late into the evening, she was not alone.

“Shuu-sama? What are you doing awake?”

Startled, Shuu turned on his heel to face her. His face immediately bloomed red, an embarrassed smile plastered across his face, and he awkwardly laughed. “Matsumae, hi! Oh, uh, silly me, I must be in the wrong wing. Can you believe I’ve lived here my whole life, and I still get lost sometimes? What a big house, right?! Who even needs a house this large! Ha!”

Matsumae merely watched his rambling display, quirking an eyebrow up with interest. 

Her silence only made him all the more nervous. “Ah, well, now that I know, well I should be going,” he said as he started back down the hall, passing Matsumae.

She turned to him and called his name. He turned back on his heel again, looking at her with high anxiety. 

Matsumae nodded her head in the direction he was originally headed. 

“...You won’t tell my father?”

“You better be back in your own room by morning.”

“Of course, yes, yes of course,” he assured, nodding manically as he started back towards Hori’s room. He stopped once more, dashed back to Matsumae and hugged her tight. “Sorry, manners. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Behave yourselves,” she said with a quiet laugh. 

“Sorry, no promises there. Thank you again, night Mats!”

As he took off, dashing through the hallway, Matsumae smiled for herself and shook her head. “Two never know how to keep out of trouble…”

Birthdays, holidays, their high school graduation, none had held as much excitement for Hori until the day of her first, real life,  _ actual photo exhibit _ . 

It was the talk of the manor for weeks, in that it was all Hori would talk about and no one could get a word in with her edgewise.

Which is why the day of, Shuu couldn’t understand what prompted the pouting look she had when he approached her table.

“You know, for all we heard about this little event,” he started, leaning against the table and briefly examined the various prints she had displayed, “I would have expected you to be buzzing about.”

She huffed in annoyance, but remained quiet. It was only when he noticed her rocking in her seat that he caught on to her nerves. "Little mouse, tell me what's got you so quiet."

"Nothing."

"That's obviously not true." She stayed stubborn and silent. He sighed. "Hori, come on." 

"It's just...Everyone else has these crowds, like all these people around them. Everyone keeps flocking to them, but their works aren't  _ good,"  _ she complained. She nodded towards a neighboring table, to the dense crowd that surrounded it. "I saw their stuff when they set up. Nothing they had is...really remarkable. It's average, nothing groundbreaking. I'm not saying I'm perfect, but, it's just, there's no vision, no purpose to it." 

Shuu leaned back, examining the crowd in deep thought. "So what draws crowds then?"

"I don't know. That's what bothers me I guess. It just seems like whatevers popular stays popular and whatever isn't-" she gestured to her own table, "just, isn’t."

"I believe this is a bias we're witnessing," Shuu explained. "Humans- well,  _ anyone _ I suppose- tend to flock to whatever is already in the attention of their peers, almost like 'herd mentality' crossed with 'safety in numbers.' Interesting to see it in action."

"Yeah, real interesting," she muttered sarcastically.

Shuu rapped his knuckles against her table, thinking over the human condition a bit longer while Hori rocked anxiously in her seat. “I’m going to check out your competition,” he informed her suddenly. She made some mention of it not being a competition, but to feel free to eat any other artists if it meant she could sell a few prints. 

Once out of earshot, Shuu made a call.

“...Ah, Matsumae! Glad I caught you. How would you and Aliza like having the day off?” While he listened to her confused response, he noticed a fellow exhibitor had photos from Germany as part of their display. “Bring Kanae too. He’d love this.”

With each ignored request for attention from attendees, Hori felt less sure of herself, an unusual feeling for her. She found herself sinking low on her chair. She considered if she could simply melt into the plastic of the chair, if one could change their density and sink straight into the earth beneath the convention center floor.

Hori struggled to stay in reality, let alone catch the attention of guests, while Shuu held a private meeting outside the convention center, delivering a speech about morale and specific rules.

A blond bob cut and a bright smile, trying to suppress a grin, Aliza acted as though she didn't recognize Hori while she looked over the prints splayed across the table. 

It was quiet for a few moments while Hori had her head hidden on her folded arms, but hearing the shuffling of photo paper promoted her to sit back up. 

"Aliza? What are you doing here?"

"'Ello, govna," the older servant spoke with a poorly rehearsed English accent. "Mighty fine works you have, I do say!" 

"W-what are you doing? Is that...Is that supposed to be British or American or…?"

"I would fancy a few of your works for my guest room!"

"You don't, you don't have a, what is happening?"

"My dear, there you are," Yuuma approached, with an equally poor attempt at a posh accent. "And what fine works you've found! Doesn't my little doll just have the finest eye? And even finer eyes!"

"I think I'm going to throw up," Hori muttered. She soon noticed Kanae wandering about the event, and wondered just what everyone from the manor was doing here when they were scheduled to work.

Despite the poorly acted theatrics, Hori did find more people interested in approaching her table. While the couple acted out various bits and tried different accents on, attention was stolen away from other tables and drawn towards the commotion, and directly in Hori's sights. Prints sold faster than she could keep up with, with Aliza acting as Hori's own saleswoman - "Why, wouldn't that look  _ lovely  _ about a fireplace? Modern art is so out, eccentrism is  _ in! _ Say, the colors here bring out your eyes- ah but don't tell my lover I said that!"

It wasn't until Shuu and Matsumae slinked their way to Hori's table, sly grins across their faces, that she caught on to the ruse, the ploy the two had come up with. 

"That's cheating," she remarked to them, with a grin of her own.

"Not cheating, no. That would be improper," Matsumae said.

"Just evening the playing field is all," Shuu added.

A warm feeling spread through Hori's chest, an urge to move that she stifled, but felt flow through her regardless. Warm like the sun on her skin and deep as an ocean, she felt overwhelmed by the reminder that she really, truly, was loved.

_ 'Once again,'  _ Hori thought, ' _ you two are the ones that saved me.' _

To be saved

To be loved

To be made to be something greater than she was destined for

That almost didn’t seem fair, Hori considered. 

After all, wasn’t she born to a run-down home on the ‘wrong’ side of town for a reason? Born to a mother and father who hated one another, for one to perish to soon and one not soon enough?

What deity took pity on her? What god looked upon such a pathetic, muted child and felt enough kindness to place the Tsukiyama family on her path? What force of nature really could have seen something in her, and decided it was worth the risk?

Maybe her pictures really would save the world? Then again, maybe they wouldn’t. That was just fine too.

“Hori?” 

She wasn’t sure how she lost touch with reality so strongly that her name sounded foreign, but the disconnection wasn’t so strong that she couldn’t come back down. Floating above herself, her consciousness decided it should maybe examine the situation a bit better before drifting through the space and time continuum.

"Hori? Are you okay?"

Hori found herself braced against a tree, in a park somewhere. Her vision felt hazy, but within focus, the aperture settled on Shuu in front of her- _he’s not standing straight,_ _is he kneeling? He hates getting his nice suits dirty-_

“Hochi?” 

He sounds so concerned. Did she faint? Is that why the descent back to reality feels a bit slower than normal?

A shaky breath in, a slow breath out, and a few blinks back into focus.

“Sorry,” she finally said. “I-I just...didn’t expect it, is all,” she explained. Shaking hands reached in front of her to the small blue box, unsure. “I just...didn’t realize...you could have actually meant it all these years.”

“Of course,” he sighed, a mixture of relief that she was in fact conscious, but anxious that she still hadn’t given him any kind of definitive answer. “So...what...do you think?”

With racked nerves, she took the diamond ring and held it as carefully and tightly as she could. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll marry you.”

With a delighted cry, Shuu swept her off her feet, to spin her as ‘thank you’s’ fell from his lips over and over. He kissed the tears from her cheeks, tears she hadn’t realized fell but embraced once she did. Tears of joy were an odd concept, but there was a reason to understand them now. They kissed beneath the tree that had grown so much over the past twenty years, as they added a ring of their own to its years. 

From her hiding place far across the park, Matsumae held back her own cries as she watched her charges. Long since they’ve relied on her, they’ve grown more than she had known, but with this final act, she accepted they no longer needed her care. She could only delight in knowing that they didn’t need her anymore as they began a new chapter of their lives together.

Far above their heads, the tree stood tall with their names carved, etched into the trunk, forever a secret from the world. 


End file.
